When I was young, feminism was about singing “I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman!” We women weren’t weaker than men, physically or emotionally. We were at least as strong, if not stronger. We were women and we were roaring!
Maggie Thatcher was one of those women, even though she never made common cause with post-60s feminism. You know, if any man ever had the temerity to grope Maggie Thatcher, she would have ripped his testicles off . . . and that was before she was five years old. It would have gotten scarier later.
The current generation of feminists, though, are defined by their weakness, not the strength. In the wake of the “groping Trump” media fiesta (a private boast followed by scads of accusations from women who can be proven to be lying or to be Hillary operatives), women have been swarming social media with tales of their being groped too. One of my Leftist Facebook friends stated that she didn’t know any woman who had not been groped.
I said, “I haven’t.”
I was then told by her, and her friends, that I’m in the minority. That the vast number of women have been groped.
I said that there’d be less groping if women responded to a grope by groping the guy back, in the same region, much more painfully (a la Maggie Thatcher).
I was told that I was diminishing women’s pain. That women suffer. That women cannot recover from the experience. That I’d made the women in the conversation who had been groped feel bad about themselves. No one said it, but the word “microaggression” was clearly in the air. Heck, maybe even “macroaggression.” Mind you now, we were not talking about criminal rape or molestation; we were taking about the disgusting (usually drunk) opportunist taking a quick grab.
I came away from that exchange convinced that we’ve gone from women who are roaring to women who are whining. These gals, frankly, sickened me with their assertion that women cannot handle what the world sends their way.